


make the world look beautiful

by fourleafclovers



Series: golden hour [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, country music AU, oliver queen loves to cook
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 00:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18510577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourleafclovers/pseuds/fourleafclovers
Summary: Missing moments, flash forwards, and other bits and bobs that don't fit in the main story of "you're my golden hour."





	make the world look beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Long time, no see! I've finally finished my semester and ultimately my undergraduate degree! So I've finally had the time to sit down and write for fun, rather than just focus on the millions of research papers I had due at the beginning of the month. 
> 
> This fit can be considered adjacent to the main storyline of "you're my golden hour," and mostly exists so I can go into detail about missing moments and plot out what I want the future to hold. This chapter specifically is inspired by a review from @melicitysmoak who wanted to see how these two "defined the relationship," something I skipped over in between chapters.
> 
> So, enjoy! Hopefully I will have a new, full chapter of "you're my golden hour" out before next week!

Felicity isn’t going to lie—making out with Oliver Queen backstage after playing music for a sold out audience is a hell of a rush. She’s basking in the moment, stretched out across the couch when her stomach grumbles loudly. Like, Chewbacca roar loud. She’s leaning back against Oliver’s chest and can feel him trying to stifle his laughter. “Don’t laugh, you know I get hungry after shows.”

“I know, I know. I think I stashed some of last night’s salmon in the fridge, will that tide you over until we head back to the hotel for the night?”

She nods enthusiastically, lifting herself up slightly so that he can slip out from behind her and make his way over to the kitchenette in the corner of their greenroom. “Oh, are there scalloped potatoes left too? I call dibs on those, you can have the salad.”

Oliver chuckles from where he’s standing in front of the open refrigerator, reaching in to pull out a small stack of Tupperware containers. “Potatoes are all yours. Only the best for my girl,” he says over his shoulder as he puts the leftover food in the microwave.

_His girl_. It’s not the first time he’s called her that, she remembers, thinking back to his first show at the Bluebird Café. It had startled her then too, and had left her wondering if this was what he did. Charmed the pants off of girls, making them feel special while he worked through his latest existential crisis. Felicity finds herself shrinking into herself, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

She had been her dad’s girl too. His junior engineer, he’d called her, as they tore open computers and rebuilt them to be faster, stronger, better. They were thick as thieves, her mom always said, whispering about things she could never wrap her head around. When he’d left, it had felt like Felicity had lost more than her dad. She’d lost her best friend, her partner-in-crime.  It was a hole that her mom couldn’t fill, much to both of their dismay, and as much as she has learned to live in spite of his absence, she still misses him.

The microwave beeps, pulling Felicity out of her thoughts. She watches Oliver dish out their food and carry the two plates over to the couch, his grin spreading wide across his face. “Salmon and potatoes for the lady,” he says, offering her a plate. His brow ruffles slightly as he watches her accept the food with trepidation, keeping her knees tucked close to her chest. “Hey, you okay?”

She stabs at a piece of potato, hesitating in how she wants to approach this conversation. _Yeah, I’m fine, just wondering when you’ll get sick of me. If I’m just a distraction for you. Why you even bother with me._ She finally spears the poor potato, stuffing it quickly in her mouth before she turns towards him. “Just working through some things. You know me, always got a lot going on up here,” she gestures towards her brain, hoping that some self-deprecating humour will clear the tension from the room. Judging by his expression, it doesn’t work.

“Don’t do that, you don’t have to be funny with me.” Oliver sets his untouched plate down on the coffee table in front of them before turning to face her fully. She ducks her head a bit, letting her hair brush across her face and obscure her from his intense gaze.

“I know, I just… what are we doing, Oliver?”

He scrunches his face up in confusion. “Are we not having dinner? Honey, I’m gonna need you to be a bit more specific.”

She huffs out a heavy breath, trying to drum up the courage to get the right words out. “I know that, I just mean, what are _we_ doing. You and me, Oliver and Felicity. We’re friends, we perform together, and that’s fine, great even! But then you do things like call me honey or baby and I’m confused, I guess. Because I don’t think it’s all in my head, what’s been building between us since we first met, but I don’t want to get my hopes up. You’re you, for frack’s sake, and I’m just, just me.”

For a second, she immediately regrets saying anything. She puts her plate down beside his, and starts to get up off the couch when his hand shoots up to grab hers. “No, hon—Felicity, please stay. Please, let’s talk. That’s all I want, to talk through this, okay? If you still want to leave when we’re done, that’s fine.” 

She sits back down and he lets out a sigh of relief. His hand is still grasping hers, and he pulls them into his lap before he starts talking. “Let me start by saying that I never wanted to hurt you, and if I have then I am so, so sorry. I guess I’m not used to the whole talking about your feelings thing, it’s not really something my family does. Even when the feelings are good, so good.” He takes a deep breath, looking at her as if he was seeking her confirmation to keep going. Felicity nods her head and he continues.

“In my eyes, we’re partners. In every way that we can be, that we want to be. I am a better writer, and musician, and performer when I am with you, a fact that Malcolm Merlyn himself could not dispute. That’s how our partnership started, at the Bluebird, and I am so grateful for that. Then you volunteered to join me on the road and I knew that we had something more. I hoped you felt it too, but I didn’t want to push you when you were already doing this huge favour for me. Diggle even warned me, when he dropped us off at the airport, that if I fucked it up and hurt you, I would have to deal with him.” 

Felicity sniffed, wiping her eyes as she felt tears begin to build there. “Digg can be really scary.” 

 “You’re worth the scare.” Oliver smiles softly at her before continuing. “I want us to be partners, no matter what. If that means our partnership evolves to include these feelings, then my life becomes that much richer. I want that. I want to perform with you onstage and sing along with you in the shower. I want to hold your hand and kiss you whenever I feel like it. But if you want to take a step back, or just want to focus on the music, then it’s your call.”

If Oliver doesn’t want to continue his career in music, he could make a killing writing romance novels, Felicity thinks to herself. Or greeting cards. He’s described everything that she wants, and she wants it so badly, but it doesn’t entirely eliminate her fears.

“What if we don’t work,” she blurts out, eyes wide as she considers the possibility that what they have isn’t a forever thing. “Like, romantic style. Or musically, I guess, even though we have been meshing really well since the beginning. I just don’t want to lose you, as a friend or a partner. Is the risk worth it?”

He looks contemplative, drumming his fingers on his knee. “I think so. No matter what, we’ll always be a part of each other’s lives, Felicity. I guarantee that.”

She wants to protest, to tell him that he _can’t_ guarantee anything. But the look in his eyes is so determined that she knows he intends to keep this promise. “Ok. I believe you.”

“Well then, Felicity Smoak, will you be my girl?” His question is cheesy but the grin on his face is one that she wants to see everyday, and she wants to be the one who puts it there. She untucks herself from the couch and climbs onto his lap, her legs dangling over the arm of the couch. Gently, she leans in and kisses him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he deepens the kiss. Once she’s pulled away, slightly out of breath, she moves to his ear and whispers three words into it. 

“Yes, I will.”


End file.
